


i don’t care if you’re contagious

by peraltiaghoe



Series: fluffies [1]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Cute, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, Friends to Lovers, Get Together, Peraltiago, Pre-Relationship, Sickfic, a fluffy one shot??? from ME???, did i write a fluff one shot????, prerelationship, quick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22095079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peraltiaghoe/pseuds/peraltiaghoe
Summary: Amy has the flu, and it's Jake Peralta's fault.He's over his crush (that's all it was).But he can still be worried about her.They'refriends.
Relationships: Jake Peralta & Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Series: fluffies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784623
Comments: 20
Kudos: 162





	i don’t care if you’re contagious

**Author's Note:**

> a lil supes abrupt fluff one shot???? I don't think I've ever written a fluff one shot before so this is new. 
> 
> I genuinely have nine WIPs currently and I'm struggling with all nine of them but I got this idea on my lunch break at work and wrote it out in like two hours so... At least I'm good for something, I guess. 
> 
> Title from Pierce the Veil's I Don’t Care if You’re Contagious. 
> 
> _And I don’t care if you’re sick,_ I don’t care if you’re contagious,  
>  _I would kiss you even if you were dead._
> 
> enjoi bois

He couldn’t stand being there for another minute. 

He felt as if her empty desk was staring back at him, repeatedly calling his name: _This is all your fault._

He was so worried about her. And it _was_ his fault. He was the reason she missed her doctor’s appointment. He was the reason she didn’t get a flu shot. He was the reason she was out of work, in bed with a 104° fever. 

“Peralta, why don’t you go and see if she’s okay?” Holt asked, pulling him out of his head. He hadn’t even realized that his captain has been standing there.

“What?”

“You’re clearly worried about your partner. Go home early. Go see if she’s okay.”

He thought about denying his concern, pretending that she wasn’t the thing consuming all of his thoughts, but it would’ve been a feeble lie and he knew that Holt would see straight through it. 

Jake nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” 

“Send her my regards.” 

He avoided Charles’s eyes as he pulled on his jacket, but he caught a glimpse of Rosa’s raised eyebrows as he was getting on the elevator. But it was fine. He was over her.

He was over Amy Santiago. He didn’t notice all the cute things she did anymore. He definitely didn’t notice the way that her eyebrows pulled together when he teased her. He didn’t notice the way she tilted her head in thought as she tried to figure out the missing piece of a difficult case. He didn’t notice the way she chewed on her bottom lip when she just _couldn’t_ figure it out, definitely did _not_ , under any circumstances, think about kissing those lips to get her to stop (or to help her to get her mind working, or to give her a break from the stress, or just because he was pretty sure her lips were really soft and he just needed to test that theory, or any of the other reasons that he absolutely didn’t spend time thinking about). 

He hesitated before he knocked on her door, arms full of grocery bags. Was this too much? He took a few steps back and walked back down the hall. Maybe he should text her first. 

_What was he doing?_ This is so stupid. He shook his head at himself and walked back down the hall, knocking on her door before he had a chance to talk himself out of it. They were friends. He was just dropping by to check on her while she was sick. He just picked up a few things to help her feel better. This was _normal_. She’d do the same thing for him. 

She answered the door quickly, looking at him and all of his bags in confusion. “Jake?”

He grinned, trying to ignore the discomfort he was feeling. “Flu recovery kit.” He held the bags up, gesturing toward them with a tip of his head. 

She smiled and stepped to the side for him to come into her apartment. He walked to the kitchen, familiar with her home from work gatherings and the few takeout dates––they didn’t call them dates––they’d shared throughout their years as partners. 

He was already pulling items out of bags by the time she made it over to lean on the center island. The exhaustion was clear on her face, and even if it hadn’t been, it was written all over the rest of her. Instead of the smooth ponytail she typically sported during the day, her hair was tossed up in a messy bun. She had a baggy NYPD sweatshirt and leggings on, and despite how cozy she looked, she appeared to be cold. 

She was looking expectantly at him as he listed off the items he was pulling out of the bag. “Cold medicine, fancy bottled water, ice cream, a blanket, tissues, vitamin C gummies, your favorite soup from the deli— What?”

She was looking at him so strange, staring up at his face with a gentle smile. 

“You’re off of work early.”

He nodded, looking at the items on the counter instead of at her face. “Holt told me to come see how you were doing.” 

She hummed understandingly, and when he glanced back up at her she was looking down at the counter.

“I was gonna get you a few movies, but I figured you aren’t as attached to hard copies of movies as I am.” She rolled her eyes, a smile creeping onto her face. She knew he was talking about the box set of Die Hard movies she’d gotten him for their first secret santa. “I did a little research though. Fargo and Training Day are both on Netflix.”

“You know me too well.” 

He turned to put the ice cream in the freezer, smiling to himself. “So, how are you feeling?” 

She laughed stalely. “Oh, ya’know. Mostly like I got hit by a truck, but other than that I’m doing okay.”

He frowned as he turned around to face her. “I’m really sorry, Ames. If I wouldn’t have pulled that stupid prank, you would’ve made it to your appointment that day.” 

She waved her hand dismissively at him. “The shot doesn’t protect against all strains of the virus, anyway. It’s possible that I would’ve gotten sick even if I got it.” 

“It’s also possible that you wouldn’t have.”

She stared at him for a moment, a look he couldn’t quite identify on her face. “You said Fargo is on Netflix?”

He nodded. “No Lethal Weapon, though.” He pulled a final item out of the bag. “Okay, I’ll stop bothering you now, but before I go I have to show you something that’s going to change your world.”

The corners of her lips turned down for a brief second. He barely caught it, and then she was looking at him with that weird look again. “Oh, you have to go?” 

“Figured you probably didn’t want to deal with me when you’re already not feeling good.”

“Well,” she corrected. “I’m not feeling _well_ , but I’ve also been stuck in this house on quarantine for three days with almost no human contact. So if you’re not busy…” She shifted uncomfortably, immediately backtracking her statement. “Although I completely get it if you don’t want to stay. I don’t want to get you sick. I could just use some human interaction. But you definitely don’t _have_ to stay, don’t feel obligated––”

“Ames, Ames,” he interrupted, laughing. “I’ll stay as long as that’s fine with you.” She was looking back down at the counter again, but she was smiling. “Okay, you go get comfy on the couch. I’ll handle everything else.”

He got out two bowls and poured some soup in each one, then arranged some hawaiian rolls on a plate. He brought two water bottles with him to the living room, intent on moving the coffee table closer to the couch so she’d have somewhere to set her bowl down. He pressed his lips together to refrain from smiling wide as hell because she wasn’t being cute, or if she was, he _wasn’t_ noticing. But you’d smile too if you walked into the room and found her, a human burrito, wrapped in the blanket you just brought her. She had it pulled up to her eyes, and when she noticed him grinning at her, her eyebrows wrinkled up. 

“What are you smirking at?” She mumbled, voice muffled by the blanket.

He pushed the coffee table closer to her, allowing a little chuckle to escape his lips. “Nothing. I just almost didn’t see you there.” 

She kept her eyebrows furrowed, but he could hear her laughing softly. 

When he returned to the room with the soup and the rolls, she had already started the movie. The blanket was now wrapped loosely around her shoulders. She glanced warily at his plate full of bread. “What is that?” 

“ _This_ ,” he began dramatically, picking up a roll and ripping out the middle of it, “is the original bread bowl.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, so he continued his demonstration while he spoke. “I used to do this when I was sick as a kid. You rip out the middle, then scoop some soup into it… Like this.” He held the little bread bowl out for her to see. “Then you have the extra bread from the middle. You can break that into smaller pieces and make little dumplings, or you can dip them in the soup.” 

She was still staring at him when his smile moved from nostalgic to mischievous. “The good thing about using the rolls is that they’re so small…” He shoved the entire makeshift bread bowl into his mouth, raising his eyebrows at her as she protested. “It’s the perfect bite!” 

He laughed as he wiped his mouth. “Look, I won’t make you eat a bread bowl in one bite, but here, try this.” He pulled a piece of a roll off, dipping it into the soup. He held his hand underneath to prevent it from dripping as he brought it toward her mouth. She looked at him hesitantly, but opened her mouth to take the bite. His thumb brushed against her lip as she took it, both of them growing wide-eyed for a split second. 

He licked some stray soup off of his thumb as he waited for her to finish her bite. 

“Jake, _c’mon_. You’re going to get sick, too.”

He waved her off dismissively. “I have the immune system of a… something that never gets sick. How was it?” 

“That was… definitely _something_ ,” she laughed quietly, coughing at the end. She groaned, tipping her head back in frustration before she took a bite of her soup. He frowned to himself. He would have done anything to help her feel better. She caught his frown and shook her head. “I’m okay, Jake.”

He nodded, internally reminding himself to keep his facial expressions under control. She was fine. Everything was fine. 

Even though she wasn’t feeling well, she had no problem teasing him just as much as he was teasing her. Although to be fair, he wasn’t really teasing her at 100%. He’s not a monster, okay? About half way through the movie, their food long forgotten, she was shivering so hard that she was practically _shaking_.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She nodded slowly, but her teeth chattered when she spoke. “I’m f-f-f-fine.”

“Ames,” he said softly, his eyes searching her face. “Do you want me to turn the heat up?” 

“N-no. I’m f-f-fine.” 

“Can I get you another blanket or anything?” 

She pulled her blanket further around herself. “I’m o––” she paused, sucking in a shaky breath, “I’m okay, Jake.”

“Can I…” He trailed off, his voice going up at the end, even though he didn’t finish his question. He reached over toward her slowly, giving her an opportunity to stop him. Instead, she let the blanket fall away from her, allowing him to get underneath it with her. They kept their eyes on each other as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. Almost as soon as he touched her, she was leaning into him and his warmth.

“Oh my god,” she whispered as she nestled against his chest. He adjusted the blanket around them. “You’re so warm.”

“ _I’m_ so warm? You feel like you’re a hundred and fifty degrees, Amy. Should we take you to the hospital?” 

She shook her head as much as she could without moving away from him. “I took medicine. My fever will go back down.” 

Without even thinking about it, he rubbed his hands up her back and her shoulders, trying to generate some warmth for her. She hummed quietly, her hands searching for warmth as well. She settled for holding onto his shirt with her left hand. His plaid shirt had been entirely unbuttoned by now, providing another layer for her to snuggle underneath. She gripped onto his white t-shirt, and he responded to her so easily. His shoulder angled as he held her, keeping her safe and warm against his chest. Her right hand found its way under the blanket, sliding under his shirt and onto his lower back until he practically yelped.

“ _How_ are you so hot, but your hands are so cold?” 

“Awh, you think I’m hot?” She teased, and though he knew she couldn’t see the heat rising to his face, that didn’t stop him from stammering and trying to cover himself.

“That’s not–– I mean, I, uh…” 

She giggled against his chest. She’d never laughed that close to him before. He’d never felt her breath on his neck before, and he was more than a little nervous. But he didn’t know _why_. He was just being a good friend, just helping her to stay warm. He’d been close to her before, this wasn’t _entirely_ new. There was nothing to be nervous about. 

“I’m joking,” she finally announced. He laughed, short and hopefully not quite as shaky as he thought it sounded. “Hey, can you talk to me?”

“Talk to you? About what?” 

She shrugged. “It just sounds nice when you talk.”

He laughed again. “Are you sure you don’t need a trip to the hospital? You sound like you’re hallucinating or something.”

Her head fell to the side as she looked up at him, and being that close while looking into her eyes was something that he had _not_ been planning. 

He’d been dancing around it all night, avoiding and denying it for weeks, but it wasn’t until that moment that he could say it without an ounce of doubt. 

He was definitely _not_ over Amy Santiago. 

He had walked himself into a situation where he had to face those feelings, once buried deep, in such an up close and personal way. She was looking at his face, her lips just centimeters away from his jaw and this felt so _intimate_ , felt like everything he wanted from her. Her fingers were tracing against his side and it wasn’t even distracting because all that mattered was that he was holding her. And she wanted him to talk to her?

“You don’t have to,” she added after he hadn’t said anything for a moment. 

He hummed, nodding his head against hers. Then he tipped his head closer to hers so that his chin was touching the top of her head. It would be easier if he didn’t have to see her face while he spoke. He couldn’t tolerate all of her expressions and reactions to everything he said, expressions and reactions that as much as he tried to pretend he hadn’t been paying attention to, he’d actually learned to anticipate even better than before. 

“I, uh… Sorry, it’s just gonna take me a second to think of something.” He paused for a moment, trailing his fingers lightly up and down her back. “Uh… My uh, dad came back around again recently.” He felt her tense slightly. She was holding her breath. “It’s fine. I guess he and my mom are _trying again_ or something.” He shrugged, continuing the repetitive movement on her back. “So it’ll suck when I have to pick up the pieces again like I did when I was a kid… But I guess things are fine for now.” 

“That must be really hard,” her voice came softly. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He shrugged again. “Or we could talk about everything you’ve missed at work the past few days.”

She nodded her head, snuggling in closer to him. “Is this okay?” 

He tightened his grip around her just slightly. “Does it make you feel better?” 

She nodded again. “You’re just so warm.” 

“It’s perfectly okay if you just want to use me for my warmth,” he laughed against her hair. 

So he held her, and he told her about all the cases she had missed in the three days that she was gone. Rosa and Charles were chasing a tagger, and they got a pretty promising lead today, so hopefully by the time she’s back at work they’ll have it all under control. He’d been mostly hanging low since she left, finishing up the paperwork from the case they just closed and assisting on other cases instead of taking on a new one in her absence. 

“Oh my god, and Gina almost killed Scully today––” He paused, waiting for her to interject with a question like she had been. Her breath was falling evenly against his chest. His hand had stilled on her back, so he rubbed a few small circles between her shoulder blades. “Ames? You asleep?” 

She groaned almost inaudibly, pulling the blanket closer to her face and shifting against him. He smiled and leaned his cheek against her forehead, the closest he would get to giving her the little kiss he wanted to press onto her temple. He was holding Amy Santiago in his arms and she fell asleep to the sound of his voice. 

And he _knew_. He knew she was sick, and he knew she was exhausted. He knew that in a few days she would feel better, that they would probably never speak of this again. He knew that he may never hold her like this again. He’d confessed his feelings for her once and nothing came of it. He wasn’t going to do it again. 

But he buried that feeling deep in his chest, choosing to deal with that later. For now, he leaned into her, inhaling a deep breath that made him dizzy with the scent that was always so _her_. Her shampoo, but it wasn’t just the shampoo because he’d used her shampoo once on a stakeout and it didn’t smell the same when he used it, it was _her_. 

It was _her_ , and god, it was _all_ her. The days when he couldn’t seem to get out of a slump, she’d turn it all around just by talking to him. Her friendship was unlike anything he’d ever had before, and he had _great_ friends. She helped him to face truths and to be honest with himself even when he didn’t want to, even when it hurt and he felt stupid, even when nothing seemed right. He was perfectly fine without her, but he was a better person just for knowing her. 

“These past few days at work have been so weird,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t know why he was talking again. She was already asleep, so it’s not like she would benefit from it anymore. Maybe he just wanted to make sure that she stayed asleep, that he got to hold onto her for just a little while longer. “It sounds dumb. I guess I just got so used to having you across the desk from me… It just feels pretty disorienting when you’re not there, I guess.” 

He shook his head, twirling a stray hair that had fallen out of her bun around his finger. 

“I don’t know how to say any of this.” His voice was shaky, and he hadn’t even noticed. He’d never talked about this before, not with anyone. Not even with Charles, not even when he brought it up constantly, noticing things Jake tried so hard to conceal. 

“I’ve been falling for you––I mean, you know. That I had feelings before, I mean.” He shook his head to himself. It’s like this was practice for words he would never actually say to her, not when she was conscious, at least. He was somehow managing to fuck it up even when it was all hypothetical. He took a deep breath. 

“Sometimes I have really, really good days, Amy. Sometimes everything feels right, everything’s just _working_. I crack the case on the first try, I get a really good joke in during debriefing. Like the day that the food truck I loved was back on the corner for the first time in weeks. There are great days. And I’m _happy_.”

He paused again, running his fingers through his own hair as he tried to collect his thoughts. “But you…” He leaned his forehead down on her head. “My best days get _so much better_ ,” he took a soft breath, shaking his head for what felt like the millionth time, “when you’re in them.” 

He was silent for a few moments, listening to her breathe and letting his own breathing settle. “I just like you so much. And I don’t know what to do.” 

He was startled before he realized what was happening. Then he was _horrified._ Her hand, which had still been curled around his shirt, was now gently tracing his jaw. He stiffened, silently cursing himself because she was awake and he was a fucking _idiot_. 

Why would he do this? Why would he sit here holding her, whispering about how he was practically in love with her? He wasn’t in love with her, but that’s how it sounded. _Oh, Amy, you make every part of my life so much better, see you at work next week?_ And of course she was going to try to comfort him. What _else_ would she do in this situation? Women were stuck in situations like these all the time, where their creepy, overbearing friend pushed his feelings on her and then she, out of politeness, made _him_ feel better about it. Is that who he was now? Was he just one of those creepy guys?

“I would say you should kiss me…” Her voice came softly, lips almost brushing against his neck as she spoke. “But I don’t want you to get sick.” 

He was still silent, still tense, still horrified, but now he was also confused. She continued tracing her fingers across his jaw, lacing them into the hair at the nape of his neck when he still hadn’t taken a breath. 

“Relax, Jake,” she whispered, and he was confused all over again. Goosebumps raised across his neck, and she pulled her hand out of his hair to trail her fingers across them. He felt like running away, and he was half grateful, half distressed that she was sprawled out across his lap because that was the only thing keeping him from making a break for it. He wanted to run, but that would only make things more difficult when he had to face her again. 

“I like you.”

His eyebrows drew together. “What?” 

“I like you, Jake. I really like you.” She rested her head back against his shoulder, taking the pressure off of him by averting her eyes from his face. 

“But you…” He shook his head, unsure of what he was even going to say. She liked him? They liked _each other_?

She shrugged. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you… You know, I figured you had moved on. And I didn’t want to make things harder for you if––”

“You always make things harder for me––”

“Title of your sex tape,” she croaked sleepily, and he could hear the grin in her voice as she said it. 

He pulled back to look at her in shock, watched her eyes crinkle at the edges as she smiled that beautiful smile that he loved so much. 

Then his lips were on hers. 

“Jake, I’m sick,” she reminded as she pulled away, but he wasn’t having any of it. He had waited all this time to kiss her, and he wasn’t going to let the flu scare him away from finally doing it now. 

“I don’t care,” he whispered back, cradling her face as he pulled her into the softest, most giving kiss. A kiss that held all of the words he’d been carrying with him for months, a kiss that carried every smile that she had inspired, every laugh, every silent look that they’d shared. 

He pressed a kiss onto her forehead when it was over, held her face gently with both hands. They leaned into one another, their shaky breathing slowly returning to normal.

“How do I always make things harder for you?” She asked, and he was smiling even as she glared at him from the corner of her eye. 

“You make it hard for me to focus. You make it hard for me to be mad.” He shrugged. “You make it hard for me to be serious, if you hadn’t noticed.” She stifled her laughter against his neck.

“I like you,” she whispered again. She returned her hand to his shirt, pulling him down to meet her lips again.

He hummed against her lips, breaking the kiss with his smile. “Say it again.”

“I like you, Jake Peralta. I like you so much.” 

“I like _you_ so much.” 

They spent the rest of the night curled up together, sharing her favorite ice cream out of the carton. He held her as she slept, all curled up in her bed. And everything felt right. 

Everything _was_ right.

––

A week later, Amy walked into Jake’s apartment. He’d left it unlocked for her. He knew she was coming. His _girlfriend_. 

She walked in, shaking her head sadly at him. “I told you.” 

He frowned, whining as best as he could given that he was losing his voice. “Don’t be mean to me, Ames. I don’t feel good.”

She sat down next to him on the couch, opening her arms to him. He immediately stretched out on top of her, dragging her down to lay with him. She giggled as he pulled her closer, adjusting so he could lay comfortably on her. She pressed her lips to his forehead lightly, breathing a little laugh when he shifted toward the gesture. 

She ruffled her fingers through his hair, dragging her nails gently across his scalp and pulling sleepy, satisfied hums out of him. “I told you not to kiss me,” she repeated.

He leaned back against the couch to look at her through narrowed, exhausted eyes. “Amy Santiago, I would willingly contract tuberculosis if it meant that I got to kiss you again.” 

She shook her head, laughing at how ridiculous he was. He gave in for a moment when she leaned in to kiss him, but then he was reminding her that _he_ was sick. 

“I was already the reason that you got the flu once. Do you want to go for round two?” 

She giggled against his lips as she gave him another chaste kiss. “If I knew all I had to do to get you to kiss me was get the flu…”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working and working and working on getting through this writer's block I've been physically attacked with. 
> 
> Hoping that writing some little one shots and working through random non-multi-chap ideas will get me back in the right mind.
> 
> I DO have a chapter of Happier ready! It is, however, a chapter where I completely forgot a plot point and will therefore need a whole different chapter to be written and released before you can have this one. :-) so that's where I'm at. 
> 
> how are you? ¨̮ 
> 
> as always we survive on a diet of only comments and kudos


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